


Hypotheticals

by spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Category: Union J
Genre: Angst, Emotional Infidelity, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about George, Jaymi, and a cat, if the cat's a metaphor for all the sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypotheticals

**Author's Note:**

> Loads and loads of thanks to [](http://aimmyarrowshigh.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aimmyarrowshigh.livejournal.com/)**aimmyarrowshigh** for coaching, and as always, thanks to Ramona for being the light of my life.  <3 This was posted on LiveJournal ages ago, but V thought I should have it on here as well, so I'm putting it on here. Hope anyone who hasn't read it likes it. :)

George likes Jaymi the second he meets him. He means that in more than one way, in the liking way and in the like-liking way. Everything’s a bit awkward because they’re being made to add George into their band so George feels uncertain and he’s sure they feel uncertain as well. It’s not an easy thing no matter whether it’s been done or not. They’re not One Direction. But George thinks they might be something.

There’s something about Jaymi in particular (though the other two are quite nice as well) that George just really _likes_. He likes Jaymi’s smile and his hair and his tattoos, and he likes the way Jaymi looks at him, and he likes the way Jaymi immediately tries to make him feel welcome.

George is a very tactile person, and sometimes that gets him into trouble. People don’t always like having George hanging off him, and they don’t always like the way George looks at them, either. He’s terrible at that. He doesn’t have good… Well, anyway, he’s terrible at it. He can never tell.

Jaymi doesn’t give him disgusted looks, though, and he doesn’t care when George crawls all over him. George leapt onto his back once and Jaymi didn’t even break in his conversation with Josh; he just grabbed George’s thighs and hitched him up into a piggyback.

(His hands fit around George’s thighs almost all the way and his grip is so tight George can still feel it hours later. He doesn’t mind.)

It isn’t as though George hasn’t had friends before, and it isn’t as though he hasn’t had friends who – who _knew_. He just hasn’t had friends who could understand. He doesn’t know how to tell, by looking at people, or he wouldn’t have been beat up as much as a teenager.

He asks, in the beginning, “So, do any of you have girlfriends?” because he’s starting to run out of band-bonding questions and he figures he can brush it off himself if it looks like it’s going to be a problem.

The three of them laugh, muffled but obvious, and George feels a pang because it’s probably another thing he just doesn’t know because he’s not really a part of them yet.

“Er, no,” Josh replies, and JJ nods to agree with him.

Jaymi, though, Jaymi smiles at George in a way that looks amused without making fun. George doesn’t like being made fun of. “Sorry, forgot to mention. I’m gay, love.”

Hope thuds in George’s heart for a moment because _he’s not alone_ and the fit one is gay and _maybe maybe maybe?_ and then Jaymi continues, “I’ve got a boyfriend, well, a fiancé I guess, have for three years. His name’s Olly.”

Jaymi shows him his tattoo, ‘Oliver’ on his wrist, and George smiles because if he does anything else, Jaymi might think he _minds_ or something.

And, well, he does mind, but not for the reasons Jaymi’d think, probably.

Later that night, Jaymi catches George in the kitchen, making a sandwich. He’s a nervous eater, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be if not nervous when he’s here with a new band and a new haircut and a new everything, basically.

“Hey,” Jaymi greets, slipping up next to him to catch George in a sideways hug. Jaymi seems to understand a lot of things about George without George having to tell him, like how he needs to be touched fairly frequently or when he needs to stop talking and just sit.

“Hi.” George arranges lettuce carefully on his bread. “Did you want one? I can leave everything out?”

“No, I’m not hungry, thanks.” Jaymi hops up on the counter beside him and gives George a serious enough look that George feels like he ought to put the ham down. “D’you mind if I talk to you about something?”

George does, a little, but only because whatever Jaymi wants to say looks like it’s going to be unpleasant. Maybe he doesn’t want George in the band anymore. George doesn’t think that’s it, but it’s what his brain defaults to when it’s out of things to worry over. “Go for it.”

“I don’t want you to be offended,” Jaymi begins, which already makes George antsy, “but like, you’re into me, right?”

That was definitely not what George was expecting, so all he can really do for a moment is stammer, and go red. “I? Er. You wh – I – if you – what?” he concludes.

Jaymi’s at least smiling, now. God, he’s got a good smile. “You, you like me. Fancy me, I mean,” he clarifies. “Right?”

“Uh, sorry?” George says preemptively. “I didn’t mean to. Whatever I did.”

He’s buoyed a little by the way Jaymi shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean it was a problem at all. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making it up, wishful thinking or whatever.”

“Wishful thinking?” George’s mind is stuck on that one.

Jaymi shrugs and then nods. “Well, you’re fit, aren’t you?” he asks. George still sometimes finds it hard to think of himself as anything but a chubby twelve-year-old, forgets that now he probably qualifies as slim and he’s got cheekbones and things. Jaymi continues, “It’s always nice when fit people like you.”

“You’ve got a – person,” George points out, in case Jaymi’s forgotten. “Oh, god, is he going to come after me? Should I change my name?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Jaymi coughs, and George is pretty sure he’s laughing at him. “No, it’s not like that. I think you’re fit and you think I’m fit. It’s not really a thing that can be helped, is it? I can’t just stop being attracted to you. Being in a relationship doesn’t change that. Olly’s attracted to other guys, too, I’m sure. He still loves me, and I still love him.”

George smiles, because Jaymi’s smiling. Jaymi has such a great smile, and even if George is a bit sad because of what he’s smiling about, he thinks it’s also good, that Jaymi has someone who can make him smile like that. George wishes he had someone who made him that happy.

Regardless, it’s not every day that gorgeous guys tell George they fancy him, so it’s not all bad. “Thanks,” he says after a moment of deliberation. “As long as you don’t, you know, mind, or anything.”

“Of course I don’t mind. Like I said, it’s just flattering, fit guys looking at me.” Jaymi waits until George puts his knife down and then hooks an arm around his neck, pulling George into a hug.

It’s close and it might just be George’s imagination but it feels… intimate. His face is pushed against Jaymi’s neck and he’s standing between Jaymi’s legs, and Jaymi smells like leather and hair wax. George can feel how solid Jaymi is and he can’t help the flash of his imagination that wants that solidness pinning him to a mattress or a wall or – fuck, anywhere Jaymi wants, really.

He wants to kiss Jaymi’s neck, but doesn’t. He knows he’s flushed when he pulls back, though, and Jaymi’s eyes look darker than they usually are. He touches George’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles, and George closes his eyes to focus on not nuzzling up against his hand.

For what it’s worth, Jaymi doesn’t seem like he’d mind. He’s biting his lip and shaking his head a little.

“We’d have really, really good sex,” he informs George, tugging once at his ear before letting his hand drop.

Something about that just makes George’s throat work a few times like it’s trying to close up, and he knows his cheeks are too red and his eyes are too bright. He does manage to swallow twice before he says, turning back to his sandwich, “You think? Only I haven’t really – like, with a guy I really fancied, they never fancied me back, so I haven’t. Exactly.”

He’s not looking at Jaymi directly but he can almost sense his eyebrows going up. “ _Really_?” he asks in blatant disbelief. “Not ever? _You_?”

"It's not that uncommon, you know," says George, carefully adjusting the top of his sandwich. It's not quite on straight. Maybe he should add more cheese... "I've just never had the opportunity."

"I refuse to believe that there are guys in the world who aren't bending over backwards for the opportunity to sleep with you," states Jaymi, his voice flat. "Or bending over forwards, if that's what you're into."

George makes a concerted effort not to choke on air. "Don't quite know what I'm into, do I? If I've never done it." His voice is a little hoarse but he thinks he's pulling off casual. Probably. Not at all, according to Jaymi's smirk.

"You can still know what you like," Jaymi reasons. It might be George's imagination, but he thinks Jaymi's eyes have gone a bit hooded. "Whether you like to be in control. If you want somebody else to lead."

George's mouth seems all of a sudden full of saliva. He swallows so hard that his throat hurts for a long moment and he says through the throbbing, "Uh. Yeah, I don't know. No idea. I haven't really known for very long, I don't think, not compared to other people. And where I live, it's not really something to advertise."

Jaymi's expression softens and he nods. "Yeah, I understand. If you ever need someone to talk to about it, I've pretty much run the gamut when it comes to gay crisis clichés. Or if you just want to talk," he adds. "Doesn't have to be about that. If you just want someone to talk to, about anything. I'm around, okay?"

George feels warm, and it isn't even because Jaymi is so fit. It's just because he's _nice_ , and not very many people have been so nice to George for no reason -- and especially about this, about. Liking boys and -- being liked by George, and all that.

It’s really, really nice. George thinks he’s blushing. Jaymi’s not blushing but he’s smiling and he swings his legs so that his heels kick against the cupboard below him.

“Okay,” George says softly, his eyes down on his sandwich as he carefully cuts it in half. “Thanks, Jaymi.”

“Of course. You’re my favorite new member, don’t tell anyone.” Jaymi hops down off the counter and he’s very close to George, and he still smells so nice. He leans in even closer. George has to close his eyes again when he feels Jaymi’s lips on his cheek, and then his voice in George’s ear. “It’ll be our little secret.”

George bites his lip hard and nods, watching Jaymi as he returns to the other room. Jaymi looks back once and George catches his gaze, deliberately licks a smear of mayonnaise from his thumb.

Jaymi’s eyes light up and a smile curves his lips before he turns away.

The next week is a whirlwind. They’ve got to prepare a song for whoever their judge is, and they’ve got to perfect it, and they’ve got to seem like they’re the best friends ever. The last part’s not really hard because George genuinely likes the other three, and they seem to like him as well. Josh still obviously has reservations but JJ’s come around easily and Jaymi… Jaymi.

If George didn’t know better (which, really, he supposes he doesn’t) he’d say Jaymi’s been flirting with him this whole time. Lingering touches and lowered voices and standing incredibly close when it’s just him and George in the room. There have been a few times – just once or twice – where George has been positive Jaymi was about to kiss him.

He hasn’t, of course. But sometimes, George thinks he wants to. And George wants to, as well.

He won’t. Jaymi has a boyfriend, a _fiancé_ , and even if George has to remind himself of that a million times, it’ll matter just as much. Jaymi’s not someone he’s allowed to kiss, and that’s fine. There are loads of people George isn’t allowed to kiss. He manages to not kiss them even when he’d like to. This is no different, just because Jaymi’s hot and gay and interested and a lovely person.

He _is_ all those things, though. Which makes it that much harder for George not to kiss him when he feels the urge.

Their song is good. They’re doing ‘Call Me Maybe’ so George already knows all the words, because everyone in the world knows the words to that song. He thinks it’s a good decision; they’re four cute boys singing a cute pop song for a competition that has a history of liking it when cute boys sing cute pop songs. There’s not really a way for it to go wrong.

The plane trip to Las Vegas is loud and excited, and George takes the opportunity to scope out what’ll be their competition. The only other typical boy band seems to be GMD3, so that’s probably their biggest threat, as whoever their judge is won’t want to split the vote too much. He’s pretty sure MK1 is a shoe-in but that’s alright. Charlie’s really sweet, and Sim’s nice, too.

All in all, George is pretty sure that they’ll need to rely on face as much as vocal prowess to get past this stage. He supposes it also depends on who their judge is. Probably not Tulisa, as she had the groups last year. He hopes it’s not Gary, because Gary would choose his acts a bit more tactically, George thinks. Nicole wouldn’t be too bad. Louis would be best, and he’s got no doubt about that.

It’s no use working himself up about it. They’ll find out when they get there. He just has to hope that this all works out, because he knows how much it means to the other three, having been eliminated once already, and now with him it’s this massive risk. He’s gotten to know the others over this past week, and even if it’s not been for very long, he’d still miss them if this doesn’t work out and he’s just sent back to Bristol again.

George doesn’t want to go back to Bristol. He closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest, only to jump when a hand settles on his arm.

Jaymi’s grinning at him when he looks next to him, and George raises his eyebrows.

“Could’ve sworn JJ was sitting there a second ago,” he says, shifting around to be as comfortable as he can. It’s hard, because airplane seats aren’t made for comfort, generally.

“Yeah, I switched with him,” says Jaymi, shrugging as he fastens his lap belt. “Bring your face here.”

“What?” George squawks. He lowers his voice when one of the Poisonous Twins gives him a disgruntled look. “Sorry, just – what?”

“Your face,” Jaymi repeats patiently. He nods toward his right shoulder. “Put it there. You look really uncomfortable, and I’m squishy.”

“Oh. Are you sure?” George is already moving, because Jaymi’s shoulder does look quite nice to rest on, if he’s honest. The arm rest is already up out of the way, so it’s easy enough to rest his head on Jaymi’s shoulder and close his eyes. Jaymi’s arm comes up around him and his hand rests lightly on George’s hip.

“Better?” Jaymi asks against George’s hair.

It _is_ better. It’s loads better. George feels more than comfortable, he feels – he doesn’t even know how to describe it. Owned, sort of. Which is ridiculous but he likes it, so… Fuck it. He turns his face up against Jaymi’s neck for a bit of a nuzzle and relaxes against him.

“Much better,” he replies. Jaymi squeezes his hip and he doesn’t move for the rest of the trip.

They practice pretty much nonstop from the moment they land. In their rooms when they get into them and while they’re unpacking, singing across the hall to each other. George’s voice is the lowest so he has to make sure he doesn’t go flat, and it’s hard to concentrate on that when he’s moving. Good to work on now, though, so he’ll have it fixed by the time they need to do – dance moves or whatever during their performances in the live shows. If they make it to the live shows. Christ, what if they don’t make it?

“Stop that,” Jaymi chastises, throwing a pair of George’s own pants at his face. “I can see you thinking. Be positive. We sound really great, and you’ve got your guitar, and everyone loves a cute boy with a guitar."

“Especially Jaymi,” Josh chimes in, poking his head into their room. He’s sharing with JJ in the room across the hall. “Isn’t that right?”

Jaymi rolls his eyes and shoos Josh away. “Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” he tells George.

“So you don’t like cute boys with guitars?” George asks. He tilts his head and lets his hair fall across his eyes. If Jaymi can flirt with him, he’s allowed to flirt back, right?

“I like cute boys.” Jaymi nudges George’s hip with his own as he passes him to put some things in the fancy loo they have. “If they can play guitar, it’s just a bonus.”

That’s good to know. George files that away in the back of his head, with the other things he thinks it might be useful to know someday, like how to start a fire in the wilderness and the correct way to give a massage. Useless, ordinarily, but you never know when it might come in handy.

Their judge turns out to be Louis, and that’s fantastic, as far as George is concerned. They’ve got a real shot with Louis.

They get a day to settle in and then tomorrow they’ll have to perform. George is so nervous that he knows he won’t be able to sleep, lying awake in the darkness and staring at the ceiling. Every so often he’ll hear Jaymi move around in his own bed, the sheets rustling.

George checks the time. Three in the morning. He _needs_ to sleep. If his voice is screwed up tomorrow because he couldn’t get over himself and sleep, and he messes this up for all of them, he doesn’t think they’ll ever forgive him. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

There’s a loud sigh and George jerks, startled.

“Do you always think this loud?” Jaymi grumbles. His voice is low and growly from sleep. George is very glad it’s so dark, and Jaymi can’t see him shiver. “What is it this time? It’s late,” he adds, checking the time on the clock between their beds. “Can’t get to sleep?”

“Nervous,” says George, rolling over to look across where Jaymi is sleepily blinking in the light coming through their windows. There are always lights on in Las Vegas, he remembers. They cast red-green-blue shadows over everything. “Big day tomorrow.”

“The biggest,” Jaymi agrees. He sits up in bed enough that George can see he’s not wearing a shirt. All of his tattoos, usually easy to discern against his skin, seem fuzzy in the low light. He looks softer in general, really, but people tend to look softer in the night time, in George’s experience. “Anything I can do? Need a cuddle? That helps me, sometimes. Night before a big gig.”

“Maybe,” George replies. He wouldn’t really know; nothing’s ever felt as important as this, and he’s never really had someone to cuddle when he’s nervous. “If you don’t mind.”

Jaymi just squirms back in his bed and draws his duvet back, patting the space next to him. “Bit of a tight fit,” he observes as George pads across the space between their beds and slides in beside Jaymi. “But I think we can make it work.”

It’s warm and cozy when Jaymi pulls the covers up over them, and George sighs. He already feels more tired.

For a moment, there’s just their breath mingling between them and warmth, and then Jaymi heaves George closer with an arm around his middle.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Jaymi asks, rubbing George’s side. George wriggles until he can press his face into Jaymi’s neck. He supposes that’s just what he defaults to, because Jaymi always smells nice there and his stubble is tickly against George’s face, and George likes that he fits there.

“Yeah, much better.” George wraps his own arm around Jaymi’s stomach and relaxes against him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Jaymi’s arm tightens, and his skin is warm against George’s.

George likes it here. In his own bed he felt lonely and a bit cold, no matter how many blankets were on the bed. Now he’s warm and being firmly cuddled and he likes Jaymi so, so much.

“Hey, Jaymi?” George whispers. He thinks he feels Jaymi shiver a little when his lips move against his skin, but it could just be George’s imagination. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m an open book, Georgie,” replies Jaymi, his cheek pressing to the top of George’s head for a moment. “What’s on your mind?”

“You like me, right?” George asks slowly. He shifts around to get a bit more comfortable and then looks up at Jaymi, because it feels weird to have this conversation when they can’t see each other. Jaymi’s face is much closer than George thought it would be, and he can see Jaymi’s eyes quickly flick down to his lips before they return to his face.

“Of course I like you,” Jaymi says as he sets a hand on George’s hip.

It seems like a casual movement except George’s t-shirt is riding up his hip and Jaymi’s fingers feel burning hot against his bare skin. Jaymi’s thumb tucks up to touch George’s hip bone and this time it’s George who shivers.

“Okay,” Jaymi continues, a little sheepish now. “So I _really_ like you.” He doesn’t move away, and that pleases George because he doesn’t really _want_ Jaymi to move away. He wants Jaymi to come closer, actually, even if he knows he shouldn’t.

George wonders when his life turned into a bleeding television drama. Probably when he decided he’d quite fancy trying out for the X Factor.

“I really like you, too,” he says, and he _does_. He likes Jaymi in more than a fit-bloke sort of way. Jaymi’s kind, and he’s hilarious – has George in stitches more often than not. George isn’t laughing now, though. Now he’s biting his lip because he’s worried that if he doesn’t, he’ll have to kiss Jaymi, and that would be bad. Jaymi’s not his to kiss. And it’s wrong to kiss people who aren’t yours.

It doesn’t change the fact that George wants to, and it doesn’t change that Jaymi probably wants him to, and it doesn’t change that their faces are so close and they’re in bed together and George _wants_ , more than he can recall wanting anything recently. He wants to know if Jaymi’s tattoos taste different from his normal skin, and he wants to feel Jaymi’s curly hair between his fingers, and he wants he wants he wants.

Jaymi sighs, soft and slow as his chest rises and falls steadily. “You know we can’t – ?” he starts before cutting himself off. “I really want to,” is what he says next. “I’m not going to, and I don’t think you’re going to either; I don’t think you’re that kind of guy. But I don’t think it’s a big deal if we just acknowledge it’s there, right?”

“Right,” George agrees. He’s not sure exactly what he’s agreeing to.

“It’s just a thing. Not even a thing.” Jaymi brushes some of George’s hair back off his forehead. “A not-thing. Which would be ‘nothing’, that’s another way of putting it.”

He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than anything else. George says, hesitantly, “Are you talking to me or you?”

Jaymi sighs again and lets his head drop back to his pillow. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “It _shouldn’t_ be a big deal but I keep thinking about how it probably is. We’re going to be – if we get through, we’re going to spend a lot of time together. And I’m obviously not going to, nothing’s going to _happen_ , but I can’t stop thinking about how I _want_ something to happen, you know?”

George does know. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know. Maybe it’d help to talk about it? Rather than doing it, I mean. I don’t know,” he mutters when Jaymi doesn’t immediately respond. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m just thinking,” Jaymi reassures. “Like a fantasy, you mean? Like we just… talk about how much we want to fuck each other?”

“Blunt,” George laughs, nervously, but it sounds stupid when Jaymi’s not laughing so the sound tapers off awkwardly. “I guess? Maybe?” He lets out a breath. “It sounds weird when you say it like that. It’s a bad idea, never mind.”

“It’s not, though,” Jaymi says slowly, thoughtfully, his fingertips rubbing slow circles on George’s hip. “Worst case scenario, we feel so ridiculous we just stop and never mention it again, yeah?”

George wrinkles his nose. “Worst case scenario, we don’t make it through tomorrow and I never see you again,” he points out.

“Shut up,” Jaymi replies briskly, the corners of his mouth turning down. “We’re gonna get through because we’re brill and your face, so there. When you do that thing, with your nose, it makes me want to kiss you,” he continues from out of nowhere. Or maybe not as out of nowhere as it’d seem, considering his hand is still on George’s hip and they were kind of just discussing this. “It’s really cute.”

George takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I really want to lick that tattoo behind your ear?” he offers. “And bite it, sort of. Not sort of. I really want to bite it.”

“Well, that’s a good start, I think.” Jaymi’s hand isn’t on George’s hip anymore, it’s resting on George’s stomach underneath his shirt, and Jaymi’s fingertips are brushing the elastic of George’s boxers. “You’ve got a really nice mouth. Like, stellar. Top five mouths I’ve seen in my life.”

George licks his lips without thinking about it and Jaymi swallows. “Top three,” he corrects himself.

It’s not that George has never heard he has a nice mouth before (mostly half-sneered from people who didn’t sound nearly as admiring as Jaymi does) but it’s a much better compliment when he’s hearing it tucked in bed next to one of the best-looking people he’s ever met.

His mind is whirring with all the things he wants to tell Jaymi, all the things he wants to do or things he wants to be done to him. What comes out of his mouth is: “I want to share beds with you all the time.”

It sounds even more stupid out loud than it did in his head, and it sounded really stupid in his head. George looks down but Jaymi just pulls him close and kisses George’s hair.

“Yeah,” Jaymi says into his hair. “I think me too.”

When George wakes up in the morning, Jaymi’s kind of drooled on his head and he snores really loudly, and George still wants to share beds with him all the time. It’s kind of a revelation.

He knows they have to wake up, but he can't quite bring himself to move, lying for a long time as still as he can in Jaymi's loose grip until Jaymi's breathing changes and he stretches a little before saying, "Morning, Georgie. Sleep alright?"

"Yeah," George says. "Did you?"

Jaymi makes a low sort of morning noise and rubs down George's back with one lazy hand. "Better than I normally do." He gives George a smile that looks almost sad behind the eyes, tweaks the back of George's ear, and blusters, "Up, then! Face the moment of truth! And wake up JJ so he doesn't miss it."

“I don’t want to face the moment of truth,” George groans. He buries his face in Jaymi’s chest, which shakes as Jaymi laughs at him. “Can’t I just stay here with you?”

“I’d love that.” There’s an undertone to Jaymi’s voice that makes George flush all down his neck. “Unfortunately, it’s not that kind of competition. Up, up,” he encourages with a hand at George’s lower back. “If we get through to the lives then we can have a celebratory lazy morning. Until then we’ve got to practice.”

They practice enough that George’s throat actually starts to hurt from it, but he thinks it pays off during their performance. He feels comfortable with his guitar and he’s starting to feel comfortable with these boys. Louis seems to be hiding a smile while they sing, and that can only be a good sign.

Dermot’s really cool, which George wasn’t expecting. Even when the cameras aren’t rolling anymore, he talks to them about their performance and he ruffles George’s hair, which is always a treat. He likes having his hair messed with.

“How do you think we did, really?” George asks Jaymi. He hadn’t even approached his own bed before they turned out the lights. Jaymi had pulled him toward his bed and tucked them up inside without much fanfare. Now it’s dark and quiet and they should be sleeping.

Jaymi hums. “I think we did alright. You and your guitar performed perfectly. Josh sounded really strong and I hit that note we were worrying about. Jayj did everything right. We gave it our all.”

“Was it enough?” George leans his head down onto Jaymi’s shoulder. He doesn’t know if Jaymi’s really good at reading people or if George was just telegraphing what he wanted, but Jaymi’s fingers card through the back of George’s hair and he sighs happily.

“Won’t know until tomorrow,” Jaymi reasons. “I think it was. I hope it was,” he adds under his breath, and then clears his throat. “There’s no use overthinking it now. You’ll drive yourself crazy, and there’s nothing we can do to change what’s already happened. We’re one of the strongest groups and I think Louis can tell.”

“I guess,” mumbles George, pushing his head against Jaymi’s hand. It’s hard to care about important stuff when Jaymi’s scratching behind his ears. Jaymi laughs, and George likes that he can tell even when Jaymi’s laughing at him that he doesn’t mean it in a nasty sort of way. He just thinks George is funny.

“You’re like an actual puppy,” Jaymi tells him. One of his fingertips rubs against a spot on George’s head just right and it startles a sound embarrassingly close to a moan from George.

Jaymi pauses, and then does it again, a little harder. George has to bite down on Jaymi’s shoulder to muffle the sound that escapes him.

“Okay, not a puppy,” Jaymi allows, moving his hand to curl around the back of George’s neck. “You’re really difficult to not be attracted to.”

George would apologize, but he’s really not sorry.

“I hope we get through,” he whispers instead, pillowing his head on Jaymi’s chest and sighing as he closes his eyes. “I’m not ready to go home. I don’t want this to be over.”

“Neither do I.” Jaymi squeezes George’s shoulder and pulls him even closer. “But we’re gonna be alright. We’re going to get through. Now go to sleep, or the cameras will be able to see the bags under your eyes when we’re celebrating.”

“Shut up; I don’t have bags under my eyes.” George laughs and presses his nose against Jaymi’s arm. “Okay, I’m sleeping now. If your snoring doesn’t wake me up.”

“I take offense to that!” Jaymi squawks. George notices, though, that Jaymi doesn’t push him away. “Go to sleep, you silly boy.” He pauses, then says, “Dream about me.”

George nudges Jaymi’s chin with the top of his head. “I’m pretty sure I will,” he murmurs. His last thought before he drops off to sleep is that he wouldn’t even mind if Jaymi _did_ wake him up with his snoring.

They make it through the next day, and George can’t stop smiling, even when Jaymi goes off to call Olly and tell him they’re through to the live shows.

George doesn’t hold anything against Olly. He couldn’t; he doesn’t know him. But Jaymi obviously adores him, or they wouldn’t be engaged. _Engaged_ , at twenty-two. Jaymi’s only three years older than George, but George can’t imagine being ready to get married to someone three years from now. He can’t imagine being ready to marry someone _ten_ years from now.

So if Jaymi’s ready to marry Olly now, still so young, then Olly must be something special.

It doesn’t mean George isn’t _jealous_ , though. Oh, he’s so very very jealous, that Olly gets to have Jaymi and kiss him, touch him, _be_ with him. Olly gets to do all of that and George gets to talk to Jaymi in the dead of night about how much he wants to suck his dick.

It’s true, and George will take anything he can get from Jaymi, but it feels just a little bit unfair that he can’t have the things he wants, and has to settle for just talking about them, wistful and quiet and secretive because they both know they aren’t supposed to.

George shouldn’t feel so satisfied – knows he’s a bit awful for it – when he’s the one Jaymi crawls in bed with later that night, just in his pants and smelling fresh from his shower. He knows it’s only because Olly’s not _there_ , but George is choosing to ignore that bit.

“We’re gonna sing on live television, Georgie,” Jaymi singsongs, flopping back against the pillows and curling his arm around George’s shoulders. “We’re in the final twelve. Of the X Factor.”

“Final of the X Factor!” exclaims George, laughing as Jaymi tackles him. He crawls over George and tickles underneath his arms.

It takes George a moment to understand why Jaymi’s stopped .He’s pinned, and as he stops laughing, he can see that Jaymi’s ace has gone serious. He’s biting his lip. George wants to bite Jaymi’s lip as well.

“Hi,” George says, looking up into Jaymi’s eyes. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Cheesy,” laughs Jaymi. “So cheesy. You’re lucky you’re so cute, love.”

George does indeed feel very lucky right now, but for a different reason. Jaymi is a solid, firm weight above him and George feels trapped in the very best way.

“You feel really nice like this,” Jaymi says. He rocks his hips once from side to side, like he’s reminding George of where he is, and George has to close his eyes and take a deep breath in. “ _Really_ nice.”

“Yeah?” George settles his hands at Jaymi’s waist, his thumbs brushing one of the tattoos on Jaymi’s bare hip.

“Mm, yeah.” Jaymi lets his stance widen, his arse easing back against George. “I think it’d be fun to ride you like this. Don’t you think so?”

George stifles a groan at the thought of it, Jaymi over him like he is now but even more naked and slick with sweat, all his tattoos on display, even the ones George normally doesn’t get to see, like the one peeking out from the leg of his pants.

He’s thought before, of course he has, about fucking Jaymi, or about being fucked by him, or his mouth on Jaymi’s cock, or any number of other things. He wants to make Jaymi moan, wants to make him drop his head back and he wants to lick and kiss the line of his throat and bite down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, his thumbs just tucking underneath the elastic of Jaymi’s pants.

“So would I.” Jaymi smiles and slides his hands over George’s, then down his wrists. “You said you’ve never fucked a guy, right? Do you know whether you’d like to top –“ He rocks his hips again, “—or bottom?”

“Either, I don’t – don’t care, either.” George swallows and stares at Jaymi. He seems so much bigger than George from this angle.

Jaymi’s throat works. George notices because he’s watching so intently that every movement Jaymi makes seems like a shout of a motion.

“You’re hard,” whispers Jaymi. “I can feel you.”

“I am,” George admits. There’s no use in lying. His erection’s pressed against Jaymi’s arse. Hell, that’s half the reason he’s hard at all. “Sorry.”

Jaymi releases a shuddering breath and relaxes with it, until he’s splayed on top of George, his face so close, so very close, and George _almost_ –

But then Jaymi slips off of him, one of his legs still between George’s but otherwise not touching him at all. He pushes his face into George’s pillow and takes a deep breath before letting it out as a laugh.

“Sorry.” Jaymi clears his throat. “Er, you don’t have to be sorry. _I’m_ sorry. Got a bit intense there.”

“Just a bit,” says George. His heart’s still racing in his chest and he’s not any less hard than he was. “Did you… want me to, I don’t know. Get in the other bed?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Not going to kick you out of your own bed. And I don’t feel like moving.” Jaymi hooks his arm around George’s neck and settles in. “The air-con’s mental in here and you’re warm.”

It’s really not all that cold in their room, and in fact, where they’re pressed together, George feels boiling hot and sweaty. He doesn’t want Jaymi to move, either, so he just curls up against his shoulder and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, George,” whispers Jaymi. “Sleep well. We’re going to be on telly.”

It’s a good thought to get to sleep on, but George is awake for a while longer, and it’s not even because of Jaymi’s snoring.

It gets easier for a while, because they go home for a few days before they have to move to London ( _London_ , George is going to live in _London_ , and even if it’s only for a week, even if they get voted off first, George will have lived in London, which is better than he ever thought he’d do) and George has a moment to breathe.

It’s not that he doesn’t like what he’s doing with Jaymi, it’s just that sometimes the guilt weighs on him and pushes on his lungs, reminding him that Jaymi doesn’t belong to him in any sense of the word and he’s _taken_ , and George doesn’t have any business feeling the way he does about him. George shouldn’t miss sleeping in the same bed, and he shouldn’t miss talking to him under the duvet, and he shouldn’t be looking forward to the next time they see each other, because he’s not looking forward to it for the right reasons.

But most of all, he shouldn’t forget, ever, that it’s not just him and Jaymi. It’s not just them, because Olly is still most definitely a part of Jaymi’s life, and they love each other. More than anything. George has known Jaymi for a matter of weeks and Jaymi’s had Olly for _years_. It’s just a sex thing, for Jaymi, and so it’s got to just be a sex thing for George, as well.

If he’s having trouble keeping it that way, it’s his own fault. And he can keep it to himself.

Josh calls him once while they’re apart, mostly to confirm the day they’re all getting to the hotel (a hotel, in London, that George is staying in because he’s in the final twelve of the X Factor) and they talk for a while about nothing in particular before Josh clears his throat and George can nearly feel the atmosphere become more serious.

“You and Jaymi are getting along real well, aren’t you?” Josh asks him, his voice quieter than it was and aiming for casual without reaching it. “I, uh. The morning after we got through, I sort of came into your room.” There’s a question there that George can tell Josh _really_ doesn’t want to ask aloud.

“It’s not that, whatever you’re thinking,” George says outright.

“Oh, I know it’s not,” Josh replies. He sounds impatient now. “Like, I’m not blind; you’re ridiculously good looking, but I’ve known Jaymi forever and I know he’d never do anything like that when he’s with Olly.”

“Right. Yeah, of course.” George forgets, sometimes, that Josh and Jaymi have been friends for so long. JJ’d only joined a matter of months before they auditioned, but Josh and Jaymi have known each other since school. It makes sense, that Josh would know Jaymi’s character. But he doesn’t know George’s. “I wouldn’t, either. Just to make that clear. I wouldn’t. I’m not trying to steal anyone from anyone or anything like that. Swear.”

“Good. I didn’t think you would, but it’s nice to make sure of, isn’t it?” Josh makes a noise like a sigh. “I really like you. And obviously you’re a great addition to the band. I just don’t want – I want to win. And I don’t want anything getting in the way of that.”

“It won’t.” If nothing else, George is certain of that. He wants this too much to jeopardize it, even for the guy he fancies. “I want to win, too, more than anything. I think we’ve got a chance, the four of us, and I’m not going to screw it up.”

Josh laughs quietly. “Yeah, okay, just make sure you don’t screw anything else, either, alright?”

“I’ll try my hardest,” George manages in his driest voice, or as dry as he can make it when he feels like something’s strangling his tonsils. “See you in a few days?”

They exchange goodbyes and George hangs up with a whole new set of worries for when he sees Jaymi again.

Jaymi apparently doesn’t have the same set of worries because the second George comes into view in the lobby of the hotel, he scoops him up into a hug.

“Hey, Georgie, missed you,” he says into George’s ear. He smells stupidly good and he’s warm and it’s cold outside, so George tells himself that’s why he tucks his hands up underneath Jaymi’s jacket. His fingers are cold and Jaymi’s warm over his t-shirt. That’s all.

“Missed you, too,” George says back, hiding his smile against Jaymi’s collar. “Let’s stay in the competition for a while so I don’t have to anymore.”

“Right!” Jaymi exclaims, ruffling George’s hair in the back before he pulls away. “Yeah, we’re meeting up with Louis tomorrow to talk about song choices and stuff; we’ve got today to settle in. You’re sharing a room with Joshy.”

George tries his best not to feel disappointed. He doesn’t _have_ to room with Jaymi, of course, but he’d thought maybe Jaymi would want to. It’s not like he doesn’t like Josh, too, but he can’t exactly whisper dirty nothings into _his_ ear before bed at night. He doesn’t think Josh would appreciate that very much.

“Cool,” he says, giving Josh a smile. There’s a cameraman nearby who taps George on his shoulder and says he wants to get a shot of them coming into their room for the first time. It should be weird, and it _is_ weird, but George guesses there’s about to be a lot of weird stuff he’ll need to get used to.

He says something about calling dibs on the bed when they get inside the room and jumps on it to make a show for the camera. This is probably going to be on _television_. George never thought him jumping on a bed would be deemed important enough to go out to a viewing audience.

The man in their room gives them a smile and says he might be back later to get another few shots of them acclimating, and then he leaves. It’s a little easier to breathe when he’s gone, and George relaxes against the bed until Josh leaps onto him and breaks forty or so of his bones.

Still, he’s happier than he can recall ever being.  
He doesn’t end up sharing a room with Josh for long. It turns out that JJ can’t really handle Jaymi’s snoring, and George volunteers without thinking about it. Jaymi doesn’t protest and Josh doesn’t seem to mind sharing with JJ, so it’s just a matter of switching everyone’s bags around before George is propping his guitar case against the wall.

“We should push the beds together,” Jaymi says decisively a week later, sitting on the end of his and bouncing. “It’s not like we’re using both of them anyway.”

They’ve shared George’s bed since he switched rooms, and they wake up every morning curled up around each other like big cats.

“D’you want to?” George sits next to him. It seems like something they shouldn’t do. It’s not like they’d be able to hide it if someone were to walk in. He does want to, though. And it does make sense.

Jaymi leans his head onto George’s shoulder. “Yeah, we should. Might not wake up freezing in the middle of the night because a monkey’s stolen all my blankets.”

George rolls his eyes, because they’ve all been teasing him about his onesie since he got it (which is ridiculous, since it’s the best piece of clothing anyone could ever own.) Jaymi prods him in the ribs, and George smacks him back, and then, as most of their conversations do, it becomes a tickling-slapping-rolling on the bed fight.

Privately, George can acknowledge that they only end up that way because he and Jaymi like to touch as much as possible. As much as they can explain away as perfectly innocent, anyway.

That’s what George’s life has become now, really. Rehearsals and interviews and thinking up new ways to touch Jaymi without stepping over any lines.

He thinks, most of the time, that every interaction he has with Jaymi is stepping over a line. Every word, every thought, every shared look. With every one, George has to remind himself that it's not just him and Jaymi. It's never just them; there's always the thought lurking in the back of George's mind that they definitely shouldn't be doing any of it at all.

But George is selfish, and he can admit that. He wants all that he can get from Jaymi because even then, even when he's taken all he can get, it still won't be enough.

Every night’s different. Sometimes they talk about sex – most of the time they talk about sex, because Jaymi knows loads that George hasn’t ever even thought of before and he likes telling George about them because he loves making George go red, or that’s the impression he’s given George. Jaymi has a habit of saying things, ridiculous things, just to get George to blush and cover his face.

“You’ve got such long fingers,” he whispers in George’s ear. “I bet you’d be really good at fingering me. You’ve never done it to a guy, have you? I could show you first.” He nuzzles into George’s hair, just barely touching him.

One of his hands is resting on George’s chest over his t-shirt, and he wiggles his fingers for added effect.

George shivers. He can’t help but think about it, Jaymi, with his fingers in George’s arse and his name on George’s lips. George knows there’s no way he’d be able to keep quiet while Jaymi was fucking him or fingering him or sucking him off. He’d have to make noises, probably embarrassing noises, and Jaymi would laugh at him.

But George knows that Jaymi wouldn’t stop touching him, or make George feel stupid, or anything. That’s the thing about Jaymi; he’d never do anything he knows would make George uncomfortable. He sometimes does it accidentally, like when he made a comment in one of their interviews – but even then, he’d made sure to make eye contact and nudge George’s knee with his own. After, he’d given George a hug and apologized.

Sometimes it’s just that. Instead of wondering aloud about how much of George’s dick he can fit in his mouth, Jaymi will just tuck himself behind George and talk about more simple things. Things that feel much more dangerous to discuss.

“Thought about holding your hand today,” he says against George’s shoulder blade. Their fingers are laced now against George’s stomach. Jaymi’s tattooed arm is curled around his waist, warm, protective. Sometimes, George thinks (hopes, imagines), possessive. “While we were eating, when Ella made you laugh? You laugh with your whole face, did you know? And you looked so stupidly cute. Almost just reached over and grabbed it.”

George thinks of several things he _could_ say. ‘You should have.’ – No, he shouldn’t have. ‘I would’ve liked that.’ – Jaymi knows. ‘I always want to hold your hand.’ – He might as well just start serenading Jaymi, and he’s no Paul McCartney.

Instead, he squeezes Jaymi’s hand and sighs, “Yeah.” It’s so quiet that George can hardly hear himself, but he feels Jaymi shift closer to him in the middle of their makeshift massive bed.

The competition is hard. It’s harder than George could’ve anticipated, and he didn’t approach it thinking it would be at all easy.

They’re all tired all the time, that’s the hardest part. It’s not learning the songs, or learning the choreography (what little of it they have, anyway); it’s not the constant invasion of privacy, or the gossip in the media, or the stream of people they need to thank or tweet or talk to.

The hardest part is dealing with all of those things while George is bone-tired, so exhausted he can barely stand and then he has to not just stand but smile and laugh and look good.

There are bags under his eyes the size of planets, and he knows the other boys are just as tired as he is.

He and Jaymi have started just sleeping at night because they can’t sleep any other time. There’s no such thing as a ‘nap’ when you’re on the X Factor. There’s just smiling, and sometimes singing.

After they’re in the bottom two, it gets even harder. They feel newly driven now but equally tired, which, as George discovers, isn’t a very good combination.

The others aren’t dealing with it well, either. Josh has developed a constant twitch in his leg that they all joke about because they don’t know what else to do.

JJ is so tired that he’s been, George thinks (privately, because he does _try_ to be a good person and he _likes_ JJ) even thicker than he normally is. It’s frustrating all of them but George is pretty sure it’s most frustrating to JJ. It’s obvious he can tell when he’s just said something stupid and he goes quiet afterwards. George hopes he’s not beating himself up about it.

But the most noticeable strain is on Jaymi, or maybe that’s just because George always notices Jaymi the most. Jaymi is usually so easygoing and friendly that it’s almost frightening how different the stress makes him.

“No, come on, stop,” he groans, his hair a mess of fluffy curls, the shaved sides sticking up because he keeps running frazzled fingers over it. “We’ve got to get this perfect. D’you want to be in the bottom two again?”

Of course they don’t want that. One of the worst feelings in George’s life was on Sunday, knowing that the people didn’t like them quite enough. They’ve got to work ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times harder to prove that they _do_ deserve to be here, and they’re doing their best. It’s just that their best doesn’t appear to be quite good enough.

George hops back to the spot where he’s supposed to be standing. During the actual performance, they’ll be on a platform, and George will have his guitar, but for now they’re just on the floor trying to get their timing right. The changes to the lyrics keep frustrating Jaymi when he messes up the pronouns, and they can all see it building in him until he snaps when George accidentally stumbles out of place because Josh knocks into him.

“For fuck’s sake, can you just do what you’re supposed to?” he barks at George.

It’s not like George doesn’t get it. They’re all stressed, and Jaymi’s stressed, and he _understands_ , he really does. But it still makes George flinch back a little, and his chest aches for just a moment. It’s stupid, and he shouldn’t feel as hurt as he does, but it’s nothing he can help.

Apparently, he isn’t very good at hiding his emotions, because Jaymi blows his fringe out of his eyes, which soften.

“Sorry, babe, I just –“ he cuts himself off when the others go silent, Josh and JJ and their vocal coach, all carefully watching George and Jaymi. Jaymi’s face is alarmed, like he’s just realized what he said.

George’s face feels warm, and he knows he’s blushing, but it’s another one of those things he can’t help. Jaymi looks like he’s floundering ,and Josh’s eyebrows have gone all quirky, with his mouth doing a smirkish thing, and JJ looks lost, which isn’t much different from normal.

“Sorry,” George babbles when nobody says anything. “My fault, I’ll do better. Let’s go again.” He gets back into position, determined not to look at Jaymi, or, indeed, Josh and his judgy eyebrows.

Rehearsal after that goes fine if a bit quiet. Tomorrow they’ll need to start doing the song with George’s guitar in, but he actually thinks that’ll go much better. He feels comfortable with his guitar. He can give it a sort of hug when he gets nervous.

He doesn’t consciously avoid Jaymi for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t seek him out, either.

Jaymi’s noticed, of course he has, because George can’t be subtle about anything. He’s cornered just before bed (before he can implement his half-formed plan to pretend he’s asleep before Jaymi comes out of the bathroom).

“Hey,” Jaymi says, mint on his breath and his hair damp from his quick shower. George doesn’t have the chance to say anything before Jaymi’s arms are coming around him and he’s slowly lowering George to the bed.

Jaymi doesn’t do anything else for a long moment, just hugs George and breathes against the back of his neck. He sighs all of a sudden and his arms tighten around George like he thinks George might try to get away. He wouldn’t. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” says Jaymi, quietly, and more unsure of himself than George can ever recall him sounding. “For earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, or anything.”

“You didn’t.” George squirms around, because this seems like a conversation they should have while facing each other. “I overreacted.”

Jaymi smiles wryly and rubs George’s side. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. It’s not your fault –“

“When I mess up? Yeah, it is,” George insists. “We’ve all got to try our hardest, and if I’m not, you can yell at me. I deserve it.”

“No, shut up.” Jaymi pinches George’s hip, frowning. “We all screwed up today and nothing gets fixed by shouting.”

George stubbornly shakes his head, opening his mouth to protest, but Jaymi puts a hand over his lips before he can say a word.

“It’s not okay for me to put that look on your face,” he says gently. “The one that was there this morning. “ He moves his hand just enough to cup George’s cheek. “I don’t ever want to be the reason for that.”

George’s eyes close, and he savors the way Jaymi’s touching him. It feels so intimate, so close, that for a moment, George lets himself pretend Jaymi’s about to kiss him.

He isn’t. Of course he isn’t.

“I really want to make you happy,” Jaymi whispers. When George opens his eyes, Jaymi’s are closer than he’s expecting, big and brown, and his thumb is still brushing George’s cheekbone. “I just want you to smile, all the time.”

And then Jaymi’s not kissing George, of course he’s not, except for how he is. George knows that he should pull away, but he’s not that strong. He’s wanted this for months now, a _need_ from deep inside him that’s being fulfilled and he wants, he wants, he wants.

Jaymi’s hand is in George’s hair, and his tongue is in George’s mouth, stroking carefully over George’s own. He’s not rushing it which George appreciates, because any more of this at once and George just knows he’d explode into atoms right then and there.

He doesn’t. He just keeps kissing Jaymi, gentle like that until George can’t feel his lips and it all seems more like a dream than anything else.

It’s not a dream. He opens his eyes when Jaymi stops kissing him to see that it’s really happening. Jaymi’s lips look kissed-red and he’s doing that thing George thinks maybe only Jaymi can do where he smiles and frowns at the same time.

“We really shouldn’t have done that,” Jaymi says. His voice is low, and there’s a hint of a growl in it that makes George wish they were still kissing. “That was a really bad idea.”

“Yeah.” George’s voice squeaks. He knows they shouldn’t have, and he knows it was a mistake, but that doesn’t mean he regrets it. He should. He knows he _should_. But he just can’t make himself regret it.

“You know we can’t do it again.” It’s not a question. They both know that it’s not going to happen again.

“I know.” George closes his eyes. He’s so tired. He’s so _tired_. “I really wish we could.”

Jaymi pulls George against his chest. They don’t say anything else, but George doesn’t think either of them sleeps a wink.

The next night, when George comes out of the bathroom, the beds have been pushed apart and Jaymi’s in his with the light turned off and his back to George. The covers are pulled over his head.

George silently crosses the room and gets into his own bed. He closes his eyes. It’s all for the best, really. And as long as he keeps telling himself that, he might eventually start to believe it.

Other than that, Jaymi doesn’t treat George much differently. He still talks to him in the mornings when he brushes his teeth, and he smiles at him like nothing’s changed. Maybe for him, nothing _has_ changed, but that’s depressing enough a thought that George shunts it to the back of his mind as soon as he thinks it.

All that’s changed is that at night, they sleep in their own beds. It’s quite normal; George has spent 99.9% of his life alone in his own bed, but he’s gotten used to the feeling of Jaymi behind him, a warm, solid chest against his back. He misses waking up with his legs tangled in Jaymi’s and their fingers clasped. He doesn’t have any right to miss it, as he was never supposed to have it in the first place.

They don’t talk about it. George is pretty sure Josh knows something’s different, but if he has noticed, he hasn’t said anything to George about it. Maybe he’s talked to Jaymi. They’ve been friends the longest, and they must talk sometimes about things other than shortcake and hair wax. That’s just all George ever hears them discuss.

They might talk about George, for all he knows. They might talk about what George and Jaymi used to whisper at night.

He doesn’t think so, though. He still adores Jaymi, and he likes to think he knows more about him than his favorite sexual acts. He’s pretty sure Jaymi’s not said anything to anyone about the things he’s told George. That’s still just between them.

They’re in the bottom two again, and it’s not any less devastating than it was the first time. George still feels just as awful and it’s even worse, maybe, because he knows he’ll be lying awake tonight thinking about what he could have done better, if he had any bum notes, if he could’ve smiled wider.

When he gets back to the room after a long talk in his jimjams with Ella, the beds are pushed together again. It gives George pause, and he just stares for a long moment, standing there until Jaymi comes out of the bathroom and looks back at George. He clears his throat, and slides into the reformed giant bed, turning over to turn out the light. George doesn’t hesitate to join him in the bed, sliding underneath the covers and then turning over so that Jaymi can slip his arm around George’s hips and press his nose against the back of George’s neck.

“I really wish we could,” says Jaymi, his voice quiet enough that even in the otherwise silence of the room George can barely hear him. “I wish we could just run away from all this, sometimes. Get a flat together somewhere and fuck it all.”

"We could have a cat," George whispers into the dark, and Jaymi's arm tightens around his waist. George can't see anything but the blinking red numbers on the digital clock at the bedside table, and he can't feel anything but Jaymi's breath against the back of his neck.

"We could have a cat," Jaymi agrees. He doesn't continue, but George hears everything else he's saying, anyway.


End file.
